Second Most Beautiful Thing
by Draconian Elflord
Summary: Comicverse. After Marv gets “confused with Wendy looking like Goldie, the two talk a little about her. Mainly MarvGoldie, but suggestions of WendyMarv. Rating for the subject matter and just plain Sin City story and genre. Please R&R, but no cruelty.


Second Most Beautiful Thing

A/N: Takes place in the first Graphic Novel of Frank Miller'sgraphic novel series"Sin City", which is subtitled: "The Hard Goodbye". More specifically, takes place in the time between where Wendy and Marv are getting supplies for taking care of Kevin but the sun starts coming up, and they have to take up in a dive together. After Marv gets "confused" about Wendy looking so much like Goldie, in this fic, they have a little conversation about Goldie. This fic is told in the POV of Marv.

Pairings: Mainly Marv/Goldie, but suggestions of Wendy/Marv. A little odd, perhaps...but not so far out of the question to me.

If it's not obvious, I do not own Sin City. Frank Miller does. This little story is only something inspired by the yarn "The Hard Goodbye." Anyone who sues me will have to answer to Marv…no one wants to do that.

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I am such a jerk.

I knew it would happen. I haven't had my medication in a while, and I got confused. With my condition, it's easy to get confused if you don't take your medication. And that's what happened.

Wendy must think that I am a real jerk. I probably am. She smacked me a good one just about the time I realized what kind of a mistake I was making. I deserved it. I told her how sorry I was. She said it was okay: that's something I really didn't deserve. She told me to go back to the couch and get some sleep. I did…go back to the couch, I mean.

I am such a jerk.

I try not to look at her angel's body, lying in those cheap dirty sheets. I try to keep my eyes closed and stop my heart from pounding. I'm trying to sleep.

But I can't get over it. I can't really say that I've met too many twins in my life…but God, she even _smells_ like Goldie. I know she ain't Goldie. I keep telling myself that she ain't Goldie. Goldie's dead: that's why I'm doing this. That's why I'm ready to die for her, if that's what it gonna mean…but not until I make Kevin _and_ Roark pay. Not until I make ALL of them pay for Goldie.

I don't care about dying if it's gonna be for Goldie. I keep telling myself that to just keep myself gun-ho. That Kevin is a slick one, and to kill him, it's gonna take every part of me that I can give. I should get some sleep.

I'm trying to keep my eyes closed, to not look. I'm trying not to listen to her breathing not ten feet away from me, that gentle music just like I remember hearing against my ear when the goddess lay pressed up against me and I was God for one night. I'm trying not to smell that angel smell.

God, I am such a jerk.

I can't sleep. Not like this.

But it wasn't until just now that I knew I wasn't alone.

Wendy rustles in the sheets, yawning and stretching in that clean, pretty way that women do, like the way a cat wakes up. I had a cat once: a little itty bitty white one, had him when I was just a kid. He never got very big, and he was never really all that tough, either. He could fit in one hand, even when I was just nine. I called him Marv because he was the part of me that existed, but no one could really see: part of me that either never came out for people to see, or came out sometimes but no one could ever see…I could never decide which. Marv used to wake up just like that.

When she looks at me, I can't help but think that this is somehow all my fault all over again…which it is.

"Can't sleep?" she asks, pulling the sheets around her to make herself a little more decent. I nod.

It's getting louder outside. I'm glad I'm not out there. In the sun, with the eyes, with the suits and the briefcases all out there, thinking they own the world before they all go home to bolted doors and a false sense of power and security…makes me wanna puke.

I don't know why, but I get the feeling that Wendy feels the same way.

"I still don't get it, Marv," she looks at me in that way that women look when they're trying to tell you something without having to say it. It's hard to say those kinds of things, sometimes. "You know that Goldie was probably just looking for protection. She was desperate for help. You know she was with you to use you for protection. You never even met her before that night, Marv. You don't owe her anything. Why are you doing this? What are you getting out of it?"

Wendy…how could you understand, Wendy? You are a beautiful woman, just like your twin sister. Ever since before you were old enough to know what your body could be used for, you were already being taught to use it that way. Ever since you turned eighteen, you've been used by men in all the wrong ways. You've had so many men you haven't known what to do with them all. I'm betting you've never had a single man that actually appreciated you for anything other than what's under that skimpy, leopard-printed thong you're wearing. No, Wendy…you don't understand. You don't understand what its like to be on the exact opposite side of the coin. Women have never looked at me as anything other than this plug ugly mug of mine, take a look at me and my body and see a monster. I've never even been able to even buy a woman because of the way that I look. Goldie was kind to me: not a kindness that you feel for someone after they've done something for you, but a kindness so much more than that. I refuse to believe that she was just using me, even if that's the truth. She was kind…that's all I need to know. She was kind: for that I owe her _everything_. If there's anything that's worth giving and getting in this world, it's got to be kindness.

In a way, I guess our experiences have been the same, though you can't see that yet. Men have been calling you princess for so long and yet you know that their words are empty. Goldie was the only woman who ever let me feel like a king. Maybe if some man had ever really treated you like the princess you are, you'd understand better.

I didn't understand, either…before her.

How could you know that when Goldie told me her name, it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard anyone say?

But we've had this conversation already. We've had this conversation, and no matter how many times we're gonna have it, it's not gonna make sense to Wendy. So I give her the same answer I gave before…the only answer I'm every going to be able to give.

"She was nice to me…she gave me something I didn't know existed." I light myself another cig and try not to sound too sorry for myself. I don't think it worked to well.

Wendy frowns at me, those big pouting lips just like her sisters pooching out in that certain way that a child's will when they don't get what they want or they are disappointed with what they've been given. She lights herself a cigarette of her own and sits there, smoking unabashed dressed in that leopard-print underwear, not caring that she's a knock-out bombshell lying ten feet from an ogre. I think I like Wendy. She's identical to Goldie, but there are a few differences I can see…I'm starting to notice them if I try to pay real hard attention.

We smoke for a while together: a silent kind of communication we both understand. We are both in our own heads, outside and above our bodies as we smoke. I'm thinking about what I'm gonna have to do, what I'm gonna have to face. Am I really ready to go to hell over this? Am I ready to die for a dead woman?

Damn straight. I'm through with being scared. I brought it all up, I let it come out, I puked my stomach up a couple times…and then I put it all back down where it all belongs. Now it's all just about the details…some pretty big details. I dunno how I'm gonna get rid of that freak Kevin…but I'm gonna do it somehow. I just know it.

Wendy hasn't said anything for a while. I look over to see if she's gone back to sleep again.

Then I see it.

Wendy is crying. I feel something aching inside me: a sharp pain that gets in my gut. I hate it when women cry. She catches me looking at her, the last of her make-up running out of her eyes in bluish streaks. She looks away from me in a way that tells me she is ashamed to cry in front of me, but she cries anyway.

"Wendy…" I try to think of something good to say, but I'm pretty stupid at times like this. Thankfully, she cuts me off before I can say something really dumb.

"I loved her, Marv," she chokes out, barely understandable. "She was my twin sister, and I loved her so much. She was the other half of me. Ever since we were little girls growing up in Old Town, we always had each other. No matter what else happened…no matter who or what else got involved in our lives…we always came back to each other. We always had each other. She was the other half of me: the stronger half of me. If ever I was in trouble: if ever I got scared or lonely or just sad, I could go to her and everything would be alright. We could go to each other and everything would always be alright. That's how we lived in this world, Marv. That's how things worked forever. But…but now…"

She shakes her head and tries wiping her eyes off while looking in her make-up portable, but just ends up with some inky fingers. I offer her my handkerchief, and in a minute, she's practically got it covered in mascara. She tries to hand it back once she's done, but heck, she can keep it now. I doubt I could ever wash that thing out to normalcy. At least she could clean her face up.

"But now…" she doesn't have to go on, she really doesn't. I understand, and she doesn't have to say more. But she does anyway. "But now I'm on my own for the very first time in my life, Marv. It's a really scary, really sad time for me. But more than anything, I guess running into you is the best kind of thing that could happen to me right now, because what I really feel right now…is angry." Her eyes flare with a strange fire that I never got to see in Goldie's eyes, but I can imagine would have been there when she was out for blood. "I need to help you do this, Marv. I've got to. If it's the last thing I do…I'm gonna see her killers dead."

I can tell you one thing…Goldie was a tough gal. She may have been desperate when she found me, but I just know she was a tough gal. Wendy may not be the same woman as Goldie was…but they sure are alike in all the good ways.

"Yeah…" I say, crushing my cigarette down in a cheap amber-glass ashtray. After a speech like that, a cig just burns me up instead of calms me down. I can feel that beast crawling up inside of me again, just beggin' to claw its way outta me. "That goes for me, double and more. If I'm gonna go to hell, it might as well be for her…ya know?"

I start getting to feeling that I'm saying too much. Wendy is staring up at me with those beautiful, sparkling blue eyes of her: Goldie's eyes. Those are the same eyes that in a different time told me that someone wanted me.

And yet…they aren't Goldie's eyes. There's something in those eyes that is Wendy…just Wendy. They're the kind of eyes that demand something out of the world: a demand I just never saw in Goldie. Right now, she's demanding that I keep on talking.

And right now…talking is just feeling good. I'm not sure why…but talking just feels good.

"Wendy…you knew Goldie all your life. You know how much she had to give. I still really can't understand why she would give even the smallest part of herself to me…but now, I don't think it matters. The point is you know how much it hurt to lose someone you loved so much. I can't really explain why Goldie means so much to me. Its something I can't even explain to myself. Just understand that Goldie was the closest thing to love that I've ever really had…and that means so much to me. If she could do all that to me in one night…I can only imagine how much you could love her over your lifetime."

The sun floods over her face and body in those big fat streaks. Her golden-blonde hair that gave her sister her name is spreading out in a blanket on the pillow. We didn't close the blinds right.

It's loud outside. Too many eyes, too much sun, too much of the daytime normalcy…but right here…

I'm too stupid sometimes. It sounds so silly. But for the first time since I was a kid…I feel kind of safe, lying here in this room with her. I shut my eyes and roll onto my side, with my back to her.

I hear her roll over in the sheets, those cheap sheets that yet do not deny the goddess in her body. I can feel her eyes on me, but I don't look over. I don't want to make her feel anymore uncomfortable than I have already. This situation is already bad enough.

Or maybe she feels safe too.

"I've…I've never heard anyone say something like that, Marv," she whispers low.

Oh God, Wendy… don't do this, please.

"My sister…I bet she never heard anyone say anything like that either. Not about her…not about a woman like her. Not sincerely."

You're telling me this like I don't know it.

"We're Old Town whores… no one loves an Old Town whore, not really. No one really respects us except our own. And you're not our own, Marv. You don't get anything out of this at all. There's incredible risk involved in this whole thing. You could die. Any sane person would forget all about her. So why you, Marv…why you?"

Why me…

"I dunno," I answer…"Maybe I really am just crazy."

I hear her sit up all the way. Suddenly, her voice is louder.

"Get in the bed."

She said what? Now that makes me turn over to look. "Wendy…I'm pretty sure I got confused again. What'd you say?" I ask, shaking my head.

"You heard me," she stretches, and stands up, her whole fantastic body borne to the sunlight. "Get in this bed."

I'm dumb…really dumb sometimes. I'm confused. I haven't had my medication, and now I'm confused again. That's gotta be what's going on here, because there is NO way that Wendy could possibly be saying what I think she just might.

"Wendy…I'm confused," I confess, sitting up from the couch. Cruddy couch…not like anybody could actually sleep on that thing.

"I said, get in the bed," she throws a blanket off the bed at me as she crosses to the couch. "You're beat up bad. To get some sleep, you'll need something softer than that couch. And you need to go to sleep you're gonna get that creep tonight. That couch is way too small for you to sleep on. Let's trade. Get in the bed."

I was confused…I knew it, and boy, am I thankful that I was. Yeah…get in the bed, switch places…all makes sense. I grab the blanket and lie down on the bed instead while Wendy lies down on the couch. She's right: she can curl up on that couch much better than I can. I feel kinda guilty about the new arrangement, seein' as how Wendy is paying for this room, but she sounded pretty insistent, so I'm not gonna turn a good offer down. I roll over so I face the wall, away from Wendy. It is much comfier here. In fact, I'm almost starting to fall asleep when I hear her.

"I'll tell you what, you big idiot," she thinks she's talking to herself, really quietly: she thinks I'm already asleep. "If in the end, Goldie didn't want you…I wouldn't have said no to a man like you, no matter what you look like."

It's the second most beautiful thing that I've ever heard anyone say.

THE END

A/N: So…reviews? I hope this wasn't terribly AU or OOC. If it was, please tell me so…but no flaming, please. Hopefully, people will like this one.


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